


The REAL Iceberg

by DearDeathDay



Category: Pirates of the Caribbean (Movies), Titanic (1997)
Genre: Crack, M/M, Meant To Be
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-08
Updated: 2020-08-08
Packaged: 2021-03-06 02:01:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25775545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DearDeathDay/pseuds/DearDeathDay
Summary: I present, in all the magnificence befitting the era, the most glorious union of the RMS Titanic and ye'old Black Pearl. Faithful to the end.
Relationships: RMS Titanic/Black Pearl (Pirates of the Caribbean)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 6





	The REAL Iceberg

In the deep reaches of the sea a ghostly ship wandered from place to place. It had been alone for so very long now. If it was capable of measuring the passage of time it might even have remarked that it had already been far past decades since that ill fated day when its former Captain had jumped overboard under clear skies and never returned. Alas all it knew now was the vast emptiness of the ocean, bereft even of the pleasant taste of the past its faded memory had once provided. 

There were times when little feet would patter here and there across its deck once again. The wisps of gunpowder and death following those footsteps in a mockery of the battles that it once housed. The drop of flavor was almost enough to stir something in the ship. It brought to the fore a longing for even the echoes of those days of glory. The unburdened eons when it was guided by the will of lawlessness and carried the bounty of kings in its holds. 

Always the boots would dissapear after what could have only been a moment. Leaving the ship abandoned even of the fleeting light of temptation. Left only with the knowledge that its treasures had left with its crew. 

Sometimes it would come across others floating across the ocean and bask in the rhythmic tapping of sole on wood. It wanted to know why it was so alone when they were full of life. It would stare off into the vastness of the unchanging ocean, wondering why it had to be so very cold in the end. 

Then one day it spied on the horizon a ship of unprecedented size. The distant sight was spectacular. It seemed to capture the light in such a magnificent manner. The very elegance of the moon was reflected off the gleaming metal of its hull in a dazzling spectacle. Everything, from the stripe of red that dove below the crests of the ocean to the soft wafts of smoke that rose from the many long, elegant shafts atop its deck. The aged ship was immediately captivated by the way it moved, gliding across the waves in deference of the wind. 

At once it grasped onto that fact like a lifeline. How could it be that they shared even that much? The Black Pearl was struck by shame. How could it have fallen so far over the years, to have its body be naught more than rotting wood and tattered sails. It was undeserving of its name, for it no longer shone in any sense of the word. It wanted at once to leave, before the masterpiece got any closer and was tarnished by its mere presence, and yet could not bring itself to move in any direction that would bring it away. Not from the first thing that had made it feel in so long. 

The wind often carried the keening sound of its sorrows but tonight it held a melody only such a magnificent ship could create. The echoes of the past paled in comparison to even the distant sounds of so much tapping. 

The Pearl felt something building up in its stern. Something it wasn’t sure it had ever felt before. Was it longing that rustled its sails after so long? Was it perhaps something more, something it had never even heard of in all its years? 

Whatever that intangible feeling was, the Pearl had never been so certain of anything in its life. It had never wanted like this before, not once. What it knew now was that it desired with every plank and ever oar that it needed to keep this presence in its sight. Slowly it willed itself closer, calling out in desperation to know the name of the ship that had so entranced it. In response the wind carried the whispers of a hundred voices, all coalescing to spell out the letters that painted its side. 

_ Titanic.  _

It would carry that name with it until the end of its days. 

* * *

The moments seemed to stretch on, every one longer than the last as they grew closer and closer. The Pearl felt something like anticipation building up to meet that never ending feeling of desire. It wanted so badly to reach out and touch the ship, even if only for a moment. 

The Titanic was a new ship that had never wanted for anything in its short life. It had been hailed as grand and glorious and even on its maiden voyage its praise was still carried by the wind. It saw this derelict ship calling out to it, so sad and morose. The ship must have been magnificent in its heyday. Every part of it must have been crafted with loving care and attention, for how else could it have survived for so long out in this harsh world. 

It found itself caught up in imaging what the ship could have looked like back when it was new. How small it would have been in comparison to its own girth. How magnificently the wind must have carried its sails. In all the time it had been around, from the time when it was nothing more than a shell to even now, days after it had first set sail into the wider world, it had never seen anything like it. 

Inexplicably the Titanic felt no pity for that lone ship, calling out into the winds. It felt kinship with the other vessel blossoming within its stern. In that moment the Titanic could no more refuse its please than it could anything. The least it could do was grant it that one small wish. 

As they grew nearer the Titanic began to feel anticipation. It had never been this close to another ship and it could hardly stop itself imaging what the results would be. When they finally touched it was only for but a moment but that moment encompassed everything it had been missing in its short life. 

It finally knew what the touch of another was like. It knew the weight of the eons that might press upon it. It knew, at least for a moment, what it felt like to be happy. 

When that moment passed it let itself know no more. 

* * *

Jack had been a man of one world. He had been born to it, lived in it nearly all his life and in the end died in its shadow. At least he had known some semblance of happiness, however brief that had ended up being. He had...

“Think they were happy, in the end?” the man next to him asked, his voice on the edge of tears. He reached a hand toward his former vessel, caressing its hull with the fondness one might bestow upon a much loved child. Jack wondered where the man had come from. He had been alone for quite some time. 

At least Jack assumed the insubstantial plank floating past them was part of it. 

“I visited the Pearl every now and then you know,” he said, pulling his hand back as the piece of wood floated away. “It was the least I could do after everything we had been through.” 

Jack was tempted to make some kind of witty remark but chose instead to ponder what kind of life the man beside him must have lived, to have died in such strange clothing. He’d found that a lot of his comments died before they left his mouth. Much like he had. 

“Our time always comes eventually though, doesn’t it? It comes for us all in the end.” he stated, voice morose and distant. 

“Aye, well, I suppose I best be off before the ocean decides it’s my time too, ehh?” he said after only a brief moment, not giving Jack an opportunity to do more than open his mouth. Converse to his previous tone he seemed almost chipper now, rifling through his pockets for something with a grin on his face. 

The pirate gave a little wave, fumbling with something in his other hand before fading away. 

Jack turned back to the wreckage of the ship and kept waiting. 

**Author's Note:**

> The real iceberg is the friend we make along the way.


End file.
